


Feathers of Violet

by bluetoast



Series: Birds of a Feather [71]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adam is a good bro, Adoption, Jealous Sam Winchester, Sam is an awful bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-10
Updated: 2014-07-10
Packaged: 2018-02-08 06:55:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1931010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluetoast/pseuds/bluetoast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Winchester didn't think that any harm would come of him attending one of Liesel's softball games. He'd even done a roundabout way of asking Dean if he minded. Turns out the only one who's got issues with it is Sam - and unfortunately, Adam's caught in the middle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feathers of Violet

April in Michigan was, in John Winchester's mind, exactly like teenager. It wavered between seasons, choosing to snow on Monday, only to rock up into near summer come Wednesday, and return to winter on Friday, with Spring/Fall weather on the days in between. He'd gotten used to it over the years and now that he didn't drive in it, he could handle it much better. 

His worn leather jacket was warm over his two shirts and he watched from the window as the Hunter's Ridge Assisted Living Home (who named these things anyway?) transport bus turned onto the campus of the University of Michigan. It was a Friday that decided to act like Spring. The bus was empty save for him and two women who were going to some craft store. They passed the football stadium, turning through a parking lot at the far side and drew to a stop next to a baseball diamond. 

John let out a tired sigh, grabbed his four-footed cane and started up the narrow pathway to the door. He nodded to the driver, who couldn't be more than twenty-five. “Thank you.” 

“No problem.” The kid smiled. “I'll be back to get you in three hours... that's long enough, right?”

“Yes. The game should be over by then.” John eased himself down the steps and slowly made his way towards the entrance, not caring about the whispers coming from people who saw him. Admission, it turned out, was a mere five dollars – not bad, considering the cost of inflation and so forth. A senior and veteran's discount also helped. He wondered if they bothered to charge anyone who stood and leaned against the fence. He was also glad he was able to get a seat near the bottom of the bleachers. Just the idea of having to climb more than six stairs was exhausting. 

“Good afternoon and welcome to the sixteenth annual Mason-Dixon Softball Game!” A voice boomed out from somewhere behind him and John didn't bother to turn around. “Your Lady Wolverines against the Lady Bulldogs of the University of Georgia!” 

The crowd cheered, and really, John was surprised at the number of people here. Maybe girl's softball had gotten popular when he wasn't looking.

“The Bulldogs are currently second in the Southeastern Conference, and in ninth place in division standings. The Wolverines are currently fourth in the Big Ten, and today's cross-conference game...” John zoned out the last of what the announcer was saying as the two teams filed into their respective dugouts, only to return a moment later, sans their mitts. He quickly scanned the players in red and black and found who he was looking for; number sixty-seven. Liesel was still a tiny scrap of a thing. Granted, the last time he'd seen her outside of a computer screen or photograph had been in seventy-three, and that felt like seven life times ago. 

John grasped the handle of his cane and rose to his feet with the rest of the crowd as the national anthem played. This might be the only game of Liesel's he'd ever get to watch and right now, it didn't matter if the Bulldogs won or lost. It was important that he was here – because Mary would want him to be here. He sat down after the anthem finished and he smiled wanly as the announcer called off the lineup for the Bulldogs. Liesel was batting sixth and playing third base. 

*  
Dean had known that John was going to attend Liesel's game in Michigan. Hell, Adam had actually asked if he minded John knowing about the game and when he said no, he knew what would happen in the end. He had made his peace with John and really, what was the harm? It was out in public and John wouldn't be able to hurt her. Not that he thought John would anyway. Not to mention Dean seriously doubted the man's ability to summon up the energy to crush a bug, let alone anything more strenuous. And then there was the small matter that Liesel would most likely be wielding a baseball bat at any time during a possible conversation.

Right now, Dean was in the middle of sorting through things before he and Jess got married and moved into their new house. He adjusted his hold on the box of china he was carrying and opened the door of Liesel's room. When he'd talked to her on Skype last night, she'd told him there was plenty of room in her closet to store things, since most of her clothes were with her in Athens. The dishes were technically hers, having inherited them from Ignacia, who'd been given the china and the silver he was going to bring up after this one from his great-aunt. 

When he opened the door of the closet, he found that Liesel had been right. She'd also apparently boxed up plenty of her things during spring break, labeling them with their contents. What clothes that remained hung right in front, leaving plenty of space on the side. When he moved the garment bag that held her dress for the wedding next month, he saw that the bottom caught against another box already on the floor. He set his box down and crouched down to draw the other box out. It was an old ammunition box, the kind you could buy at army surplus stores. Where in the world had this box come from? He hefted it and found that it wasn't that heavy, and an odd sort of feeling settled over him. Dean stood, taking the box and went down the hall to his own bedroom. The fact that Liesel had hidden this meant one of two things; either it was something she wanted to protect, like the cards her mom had left for her or it was something she didn't want him to know about, and for that fact, he needed to know about it. He set the box down on his dresser and undid the latch. 

He lifted back the lid and found a folded flannel shirt. 

He lifted it from the box and shook it out, his eyes widening in shock – he knew this shirt, it had been his. He held the fabric to his nose – and yes, it was still there – a faint trace of laundry soap. This was the shirt he always kept clean, the one he did his best not to get anything on – the shirt he wore when the Winchesters went to see Pastor Jim. How did this shirt get here? Surely, it must have fit Sam at some point. He set the shirt down and looked down at the rest of the contents, and received a greater shock.

Dozens of laminated pieces of paper were lying inside. 

A scrap of paper smaller than a post-it caught his attention first. Dean recognized the print style of _People_ magazine. It was Liesel's birth announcement. A similar scrap of paper announcing his and Ignacia's engagement and a third, Ignacia's death. 

Dean's confusion only grew as he sifted through layers of articles about him and his gymnastic career. Him winning Nationals in 2001, along with all his other trips to that meet – his string of appearances at Worlds. And the other meets as well – even things only gymnastics people would know like the Arthur Gander and the DBT Cup. His second place finish at the American Cup, when he'd just become a senior elite. It was all here. From a brief mention of a Games outlook in '96 to an op-ed piece about him being kept off the team that went to Sydney. Hell, there was even the articles, printed out, from the Gallaudet website. What in the world was all this? Some sort of twisted tribute to his gymnastics career?

Under the laminated articles were a handful of photographs from when he was very young. It was hard to believe it was him – a hollow faced boy sitting on a chair at Pastor Jim's, asleep. Dean flipped the photograph over and saw that it was dated January 24, 1988 – his last birthday with John and Sam. 

Where had all of this come from? 

In an instant, he knew. 

It'd been in the Impala. Liesel had found this box in the trunk of the Impala, most likely in the secret compartment, and had hidden it, uncertain of what she should do with it. 

John had put that box there – and who knows how long it had been there.

Had she told anyone about it? 

That seemed unlikely – she skirted around the subject of John Winchester almost as much as he did. She wouldn't even bring it up in front of Henry for fear it would upset him. It was nothing but confusion. Dean quickly put everything back into the box and returned it to where he found it. Liesel had hidden it for a reason. It was – well, hell – it was confusing. John had found all these articles – kept them, preserved them and then – hidden them away. But why? It was – well, perhaps it was his own brand of torture. 

Dean went back downstairs to retrieve another box. Everyone in this family had their fair of secrets; he just wouldn't tell Liesel he was aware of one of hers.

*  
John calmly cut the news article out of the Ann Arbor Times, humming Hey Jude to himself. It wasn't that big of a piece, and he was just glad that newspapers were still around; mankind hadn't gone completely digital yet. He set the scissors down, opened the glue stick and, after a few quick strokes, attached the article to the scrapbook page. 

“Good morning, John.” One of the aides came over and handed him a small envelope. “Courtesy of the good people at Walgreens.” 

John looked up and smiled. “Thanks. Double prints?” 

“Of course.” She handed him the small flash-drive as well. “The line wasn't that long.”

“I appreciate it... Darcy, right?” He had trouble keeping the aides straight at times.

“Nellie. I know, a lot of people get us confused because we both have brown hair, glasses and are about the same size.” She shook her head and looked down. “Oh..” She turned her name tag around. “That should make it easier.” She walked away.

He pocketed his flash-drive and then opened the envelope, pulling out one of the pictures. Liesel's face beamed up at him, leaning against the side of the dugout. He took the scissors and very carefully cut out most of the background of the picture and then glued what remained to the scrapbook page. John was going to put the doubles of the pictures in frames. Liesel might not call him grandpa, but well, he was going to do some bragging on her the next chance he got.

**  
In Cincinnati, Adam Winchester was in the middle of paperwork when the doorbell rang. Kelly was out doing the weekly grocery shopping. He frowned, looking at his watch – Anthony wasn't due home from his play date for at least thirty minutes. He glanced through the glass, and was surprised. “Sam!” He opened the door, not sure of what his brother was doing here. “What brings you to the neighborhood?” 

Sam came into the hallway, looking pensive. “Did you know that Dad went to go see Liesel's softball game last week?”

“Yes.” Adam frowned. Why would Sam be upset about that? “Why, did something happen?”

“Did you know that Liesel has the Impala?” For some reason, his brother sounded downright pissed.

“You didn't want it, Sam. What's going on?” He really hated it when his brother played the martyr. 

“I'll tell you what's going on, Adam Theodore.” His brother snarled. “Is that you and Dad have just shut me out of everything that's been happening in this family for almost a year!”

Adam frowned. “Excuse me? You're the one who wanted to be left alone. When you, Dad and I sat down and discussed assisted living, you were more than willing to go along with it. Hell, you're the one who suggested it in the first place!” 

“That's beside the point!” Sam bellowed. “The point is, I want to know how Dad even knew that Liesel and that Clara Oswin person were one in the same!”

Adam felt his eyes narrow and he took a deep breath. “I'll tell you how. Because our great-grandfather didn't vanish, he screwed up performing a spell that instead of sending him sixty miles away sent him sixty years away and he landed in Liesel's closet when she was thirteen.” He held out a hand. “Now, I only found out about all this at Christmas, so chill the fuck out and let me continue. A few years ago, he messed up in another spell and ended up sending Liesel back to the year nineteen seventy three. She used the name Clara Oswin as an alias. And I still don't know how she got home, but she did.” He frowned. “Becca watches _Doctor Who_ , how could she not know who Clara Oswin is?” 

“That's not important!” 

“Why are you so pissed she's got the Impala anyway, Sam? What, did you find out how much the damn thing was worth and now are mad we didn't sell it?” Adam was starting to get seriously angry with his brother.

“I'm sick of not knowing what's going on in this family!” He screamed.

“Then act like you want to be in this family!” He replied, through clenched teeth. “I don't know what the fuck you did to piss Dean off, but it must have been something major.”

“Oh you don't know the whole story with me and Dean.” Sam took a breath. “Just, I just don't like being uninformed. You know that.” 

“You've done a shitty job of wanting to be a participant in this family. I can't control other people's actions. Were you just that angry when you found out that Dean had gotten along just fine after Dad left him in that ER? Would you be happier if he'd died, or something?” Adam really wished he knew what had happened between his older brothers, it made no sense. 

“I just...” He took a breath. “I don't get how...” He ran a hand through his hair. “What happened between you two? What happened between the two of us? We used to be friends, Adam. Now, now I feel like we barely know each other.”

“You went off to college and I grew up. When we lived in the same house, it was easy. But we grew apart. It happens.” Adam shook his head. “It's not like Dean and Dad talk regularly. They've only talked once that I know of. I don't even know if Dean knows Dad went to that softball game.”

“I just... I don't like it.” Sam took a breath. “I don't know what it is.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Look, I'm sorry Adam. I'm just, I think I'm barreling into my mid-life crisis, or something.”

“Sam, you're not turning forty until next year.” He rolled his eyes and headed towards the kitchen. “Reminds me, do you actually want to do something for your birthday? Ditch the girls and go to a Reds Game?” Adam silently prayed Sam wouldn't say something asinine, like asking if Anthony would be coming along. 

“That could be fun.” Sam came into the room behind him. “I think they're playing the Dodgers on my birthday.”

“Well, if you want to go out, eat things that are bad for us and then go and scream ourselves hoarse, I'm all for it.” Adam slid into his seat at the counter. “It's not like I ever have surgeries at night.”

“My baby brother the plastic surgeon.” Sam snorted. “Don't you ever get tired of giving women facelifts?”

Adam glared at him. “I do more than cosmetic surgery, Sam. I do a good chunk of reconstructive as well.”

Rather than give another smart-ass remark, his brother chose to change the subject. “You have any soda? Becca's on another heath kick and has expelled all sugar from the house.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

 _That_ might explain part of his brother's weird mood. “In the fridge, although the only non-diet in there is root beer.” He shook his head. “How Kelly drinks Diet Mountain Dew, I have no idea.”

Sam chuckled and headed for the fridge. “If you find out, tell me. Sorry we couldn't make it to Anthony's birthday party a few weeks ago.” 

“It's okay. He really loves the dump truck you gave him. I think he'd sleep with it in his bed if we let him.” Adam said, more to the counter than to Sam. He thought that his brother and sister-in-law could have withstood three short hours of kids for family's sake, if Sam was so adamant about being a part of this family. He looked up when he realized that he never heard the fridge open. “Sam?”

“What the fuck?” He barely heard his brother's voice.

“Something wrong?” He frowned. “There's not something growing in there, is there?”

“What in the entire...” Sam grabbed something off the fridge and came over to him. “What the fuck is this?” 

Adam gingerly took the card-stock from his brother and glanced at it, frowning. “It's a wedding, invitation, Sam.”

“I can see that.” Now his brother's face was almost purple with rage. “Since when the fuck is Dean dating _my_ Jess?”

Adam snorted. “I don't think Jessica Brown is _your_ Jess, Sam. If she was your Jess, she most likely wouldn't have married Peter Brown.” He set the invitation down, folding his arms on the counter. “Sam, I don't know what crawled up your ass and died, but I wish you'd work on removing it.”

“Fuck this.” Sam stalked out of the kitchen an a moment later, Adam heard the front door slam. 

Adam let out a sigh and took the invitation back to the fridge and put it under a magnet. “How come Dean's the one in therapy when Sam's the one who needs it?” He shook his head and his smile brightened as he heard the doorbell ring. He went through the house and opened the front door. 

“Daddy!” Anthony swept into the house and hugged his father's legs, and Adam ruffled his hair.

“Thanks for bringing him back, Daniel.” He smiled at his long time friend. “What do we say, Anthony?”

“Thank you, Mr. D.” He grinned. “Bye, Mr. D, bye Josh!” He waved at his friend.

“Bye An'thy.” The slightly taller boy lisped.

Adam watched as Daniel and his son went back to their car and then shut the door, locking it out of habit. Anthony detached himself from his father and went into the family room, settling down at his box of Duplo blocks. “You have fun today?”

“Uh huh.” Anthony nodded. “We had ice cream.”

“Ice cream?” He grinned. “Chocolate?”

“'Course.” The boy said more to his blocks than to him.

Still smiling, he picked up his tablet and walked over to his son. “Guess what someone sent mommy and daddy while you were gone?”

“What?” He looked up as Adam sat down on the floor. 

“Look.” He pressed a few buttons on the tablet and a photograph appeared on the screen. “Who's this, Anthony?”

The boy looked down at the olive skinned girl who was barely two, starting up at them with big brown eyes and wispy brown hair. “Sissy!” He beamed and looked at him. “That's Sissy!”

“That's right.” He gave the boy a hug. “We got a new picture of Sissy.”

“Sissy come home soon?” Anthony gave him an expectant look. “Want Sissy home.”

“We're going to go get Sissy in a few weeks. We have to wait for the people to say that it's okay for us to go pick her up.” Adam knew you couldn't really explain things like paperwork and geography to a four year old. 

He went and put his tablet back on the counter and came back over to help his son build a block city.


End file.
